#sunset in the rearview

[presentsoul]

Rearview Winters

[dyingfeline]

3434

[keiteay]

Don’t look back in anger

[avalost]

The tunnel closed around him, shutting out the daylight until its only remnant was a bright hope in the distance. Lamps blinked by in sequence as he drove on.

Six hours until sunset. Six hours to think of something. He gripped the wheel until the bones in his hand hurt. There had to be a way out.

In the rearview, the headlights of cars behind him switched on, wolfish eyes opening in the dark.

[suchalovelylittlething]

[perfectstormlinnea]

sunset drive

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun•\

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

Exactly what it says on the tin. Established ghoap, bringing in fem!reader roommate. Poor writing. Reader has had any identifying features removed, but she owns a Ford Fiesta. Take that as you will. Just testing to see if there is interest in a lighthearted fun sexy fic like this. 🩶

*

“Remember. You’re desperate,” you muttered to yourself looking at your reflection in the rearview mirror of your tiny Ford Fiesta. The ink might as well still be fresh on the ad your roommate printed off for you (the perfect symbol of her guilt for moving back in with her boyfriend and forcing you to find a new apartment and new roommates in the first place).

The ad reads as thus: WANTED: ANY GENDER WELCOME to fill the second bedroom in a 2b/2ba 1290sq ft apartment. DOWNTOWN. In-building laundry. Utilities and rent split EVENLY amongst 3. NO FASCISTS, NO HOMOPHOBES.

It was the most promising ad you had seen after days of scouring the internet in your every spare moment (usually reserved for those moments when you were on break during shifts, feet and back aching, hating your life OR at the end of a long day when the post-sunset depression hit with all the force of a typhoon). Any two people who were against fascism and homophobia were alright in your book. As for the finer details—well. You were desperate. You were going to have to overlook any skeletons in their closets, as long as those skeletons weren’t literal.

I’m texting about the apartment downtown. Is this the right number?

Yeah, you’ve got it. Nice to text ya. You’re interested?

Very. Is there somewhere we could meet to discuss the details?

We don’t mind showing the apartment. Got a few others coming to see it as well. You cursed up a storm reading over that particular text, so much so that your roommate’s boyfriend knocked angrily on the thin walls separating your bedrooms. Scowling, you knocked back—a little too angry to be mistaken for conciliatory. You blamed that bastard for your troubles in the first place.

I’ll see it ASAP, if that’s okay.

Go-getter. How soon can you be here?

Which is how you found yourself in the parking lot of the building, hastily combing hairs back into place, hoping for some semblance of presentability. If only there was a way to hide the desperation in your eyes…

The apartment complex itself is everything you could have hoped for. It even has an indoor pool, which is a step up from the facilities offered at your own apartment. The rent is a little higher than what you were pulling at your old place, but you think you can manage it if you cut back on excess frivolities. And any joy. (Joy costs)

There’s a doorman even—an honest to god doorman! He instructs you on the way to the elevators, and you take them up to the top floor, feeling your ears pop from the change in altitude. By the time you’re standing in front of their door, your knees are knocking together, terrified of who you might be meeting. Even more terrified that they might not like you, that they might say no—

—and the door opens, shattering any expectation you have. The man standing there is undoubtedly, ungodly, unseemly, obscenely hot. His head nearly brushes the frame of the door, blond hair wild and mussed, like he’s just had the fuck of his life. He’s thick, too, muscles on muscles along his corded forearms, bared by the dark tee that stretches across his chest.

He is pale and dark eyed and frowning down at you so sternly that you are convinced you have knocked on the wrong door. God help you. It’s all an honest mistake—but then his gravelly, softly-accented voice says: “You’re here about the apartment?”

Your heart nearly stops. This is the person who owns the apartment? How could you be expected to live alongside this behemoth? Just as you are about to tuck tail and run, a hand grips the man’s shoulder and gently tugs him aside and another specimen—two of them! two!—appears. This one has his hair cropped in a Mohawk, his eyes a deep drown-worthy blue. A few inches shorter, he is just as impressive shape. He beams at you.

“Well!” he says, leaning on the door frame in a way that fetchingly shows off the cut muscles of his arm and chest. His voice is accented too, something rougher, different than the taller man’s. “You aren’t what I was expecting. Unless yer just a wee fascist.”

You blink. You had been thinking the very same. Your hackles rise on instinct, bristling in preemptive outrage. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’ve had a type answering the ad,” the other man says dryly. “Johnny doesn’t mean nothing. Come in—if you’re still interested in the apartment.”

It crosses your mind that this is perhaps foolish: entering an apartment of strange men, regardless of how you had left the address with your roommate and specified a time to check in with her. But you’re desperate. So you slip in after them, Johnny making ample room for you to move past him in the doorway.

When you do, you smell his shower gel, something woodsy. You say a prayer that you aren’t drooling.

Your eyes roam over the open-concept apartment. The living room and kitchen are combined, larger than you might have imagined. It is homier, too, for a place where two men live: there are pictures along the walls, potted plants in the corners and on the desk, and an easel overlooking the balcony in the corner, an oil half-rendering of the view outside.

It is tidy. It smells nice. It is owned by two of the hottest men you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.

“I want it,” you blurt out.

Johnny laughs. “Sure ya do. Let us show you everything and then we’ll talk.”

You barely manage to contain your impatience as they lead you room to room. The guest room is empty, except for some boxes that Johnny hastily promises can be moved. The closets have no skeletons (you check). You would have your own bathroom. The more you see, the more convinced you are that this would be an ideal apartment regardless of who was offering it to you, but the frequent banter between the two men (Johnny and Simon you find out) is so entertaining and inviting that it’s hard not to feel like they want you—to be their third. Roommate that is.

After every nook and cranny of the apartment has been seen, they seat themselves on the loveseat and you on the adjacent armchair, your fingers interlaced like a businesswoman about to make the deal of her lifetime.

“I still want the room,” you admit. Johnny smiles, an expression that you sense comes easily to his face. His smile falls a little when you continue: “I just have one question. Why the vacancy?”

Simon takes a measured breath. The silence grows thick as they share a glance, communicating silently in a way that only two who have known each other—who have been through things with each other—can. At length, he says: “We’re ex-military. Disabled.”

That explained the cane Johnny had been using to move around the apartment.

“The benefits were excellent until recently, when we saw a generous…cut to our monthly pay.”

You frown. “That’s terrible. Why would they do that?”

Johnny gives a breathless little laugh. His hand comes down slowly to rest on Simon’s knee. You stare, unsure what you are seeing. “Well, it happens…when you get married.”

-

“That explains a lot,” your roommate says when you spill every little detail after driving home. By the time you arrive, her insufferable boyfriend is gone for the night (thank God) so it is just the two of you, like the good old days. “Namely why two men in a two bedroom apartment are looking for a roommate.”

“I didn’t even think of it,” you groan, palming at your eyes. “Am I homophobic?”

“No, just desperate and wishful,” she teases. She has no idea how accurate she is. It’s been years—literal years since you’ve been with anyone of substance. In the meantime, you’d been happy to settle for your fingers and your toys, but there was the occasional itch that only a cock could scratch in you. Figuratively. “This is a good thing though. The last thing you need is getting tangled up with your new roommates. That’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Instead I’ll be in the middle of their marital bliss. Or lack of, depending on the day,” you suggest dryly. But you aren’t even sure how much you believe your own words. Simon and Johnny said they had been together for nearly ten years, and more than their words, you had seen them with your own eyes—the way they gravitated to each other, the way their eyes were never far from each other. The way they roasted each other so good-naturedly. They seemed like a couple who were past their seven year itch, who had grown older and comfortable with each other. They seemed like they had their shit together.

Did it make you terrible that you still wanted to be pinned between them like a bug in a science project?

“Then tell them no,” she says, sitting on the edge of your bed. You see the guilt in her eyes, and it makes you just a little vindicated. Which makes you feel terrible. “You’ll find something. I promise. You could always stay with us until you do—“

“God no. No offense.”

“None taken. I think.”

You sigh. You nudge her with your foot. “Alright, out, I need to think.”

But it takes such little thought when Johnny (affectionately added to your phone) messages not ten minutes later.

I don’t want to rush ya, but another person asked to see the apartment. Should I show them?

No way, you text. That room is mine.

[comatosebunny09]

kindle | leon k.

genre(s): romance, friends to lovers, modern au

warning(s): language, mutual pining, soft boi leon, stream of consciousness

Leon does these things that confuse the hell out of you while you’re on missions or around the office. You’re his partner—work partner—but sometimes you feel like a little more. More than the younger sibling caught beneath the shadow of an overbearing brother. 

You don’t really know where things are going because he’s made it glaringly obvious in the past that he doesn't mix work with pleasure. However, something’s clearly shifted in your relationship as of late. Yet, you can’t, for the life of you, pinpoint what it is or when it happened. 

Oftentimes, you catch him gazing at you in your peripheral, a fondness inhabiting his eyes like you’ve never seen with the slightest quirk to his lips. That softness remains when a battle-worn thumb swipes blood from your cheek or rubs grime from your jaw. 

Sometimes, he holds your chin between his fingers and tilts your head this way and that—much to your chagrin—to make sure you’re devoid of injuries. Though, you never miss how his irises glitter like the sunset against sea waves, and his lips part a little as he relinquishes the softest, most relieved sigh to the air. And sometimes, you stand like this for eons, confused yet enamored, until the wet garble of a zombie springs you two apart. 

You never miss how a cautious hand finds the small of your back while you’re hunched over paperwork at your desk. How it burns through the thickness of your blazer, causing your heart to work overtime. And Leon beams so boyishly, bowing over to swaddle you in his warmth and cologne as he quips how “you’ve got your work cut out for you.” Yet, as much as he hates filling out reports himself, he stays until the moon sits high in the sky to help you finish. 

He always walks you to your car afterwards, arguing that, shit yeah, you can handle yourself. You suplex the undead for a living. But he’d fling himself off a cliff if his dear partner got snatched up in the parking garage. And he always lingers around a little longer after you pull off, a tender smile cresting across his lips in your rearview mirror. 

But he’s your partner. He’s supposed to do things like that, right? 

Like, he’s supposed to bring you food when you forget to eat—which is quite often. He’s supposed to show up to your apartment to check on you on your days off, promising his company, booze, and terrible romcoms. Supposed to hold you in your bed until you surrender your consciousness to the pretty little girls of slumber. And maybe, just maybe, it’s standard for your partner to kiss you quietly behind your ear and embrace you tighter when you squirm and chuckle and sigh wistfully in your sleep.

Through the wispy haze and the grogginess and the darkness inhabiting your bedroom, you shift to gather his cheeks in your palms—maybe you’re awake. Perhaps you’re still lurking below the shadowy depths of sleep. Who knows—and you kiss him. Cautious, but you kiss him. And though he’s initially thrown off kilter by the suddenness of it all, he relaxes against the suppleness of your lips. And his brows furrow as if he’s waited millennia for this moment. And his throat crackles with a quieted, hoarse sound as his hands perch on your hips, drawing you ever closer until your wrists cross behind his neck, and—

And…

Well, this is totally normal. Right?

part 2 >>

[chososdiscordkitten]

Synopsis: Gojo tries to convince reader how fun traveling at night can be ;)

Pairing: Gojo x GN!Reader Content: EXHIBITIONISM, reader is kinda mean, oral (m), mentions of previous sexual acts but nothing in detail, VOYEURISM, cum eating, insinuating intercourse

Dedicated to this ask.

MDNI

Traveling with Gojo was always a hassle. Knowing he could technically teleport wherever he wanted. “I like spending time with you between our destinations.” he’d say in defense. 

He would claim he enjoyed the seemingly empty hours of stupid conversations on the road.

Road trips where you were forced to feed him snacks while he drove, watching the sunset in the rearview window as though you were living in some rom-com movie. 

Short 15-minute walks late at night when you stayed up too late and got hungry. 

Even if you had to spend too much time going through TSA just to get on a plane, you deemed obsolete. Satoru always liked the domesticity of acting like ordinary people for a few hours on a plane. Enjoying when you doze off and tip your head on his shoulder. 

And that’s what this was. Another unnecessary way of traveling.

Satoru had told you he wanted to take you to a strip of many shops that sold tasty treats. Only it was a few cities away, and he refused to teleport to it. “That’s part of it! You can’t just go get the sweets. You have to travel for them!” his defense was. 

Satoru had gotten the later train to leave the city, saying something along the lines of ‘We get there around 4am, and we can spend the whole day there.’ 

“Trains are romantic, don’t you think?” Sitting in front of you, on opposite sides of the table booth, with his hands flat on the top. You perked a brow, looking up from your phone and scoffing. 

“I think.. trains are a dated way of travel,” you muttered, looking back down to your phone with tired eyes. Satoru gave out a small giggle, knowing you were weary and fatigued from sitting in the uncomfortable chairs.

“If we had driven,” crossing your ankles as the corner of your lip perked, “maybe, we could’ve had some fun.” you mumbled with a soft grin, looking down at your phone. Hearing a lecherous giggle leave Satoru’s mouth. 

He hummed softly, leaning over on the table, “You wanna go find out where they keep the luggage?” he whispered, a smug smile on his lips. You placed your phone on the table, smiling sweetly at him. 

“No,” you spoke flatly, watching his expression fall with a pout on his lips. “You sit there and think about the consequences of your actions.” You scoffed, picking up your phone again and scrolling. 

Satoru looked out the window, watching the land zoom past him, then flashing his eyes, looking over to the opposite booth you were in. Noting it was empty, eyeing the dim lights above your head. A pensive smile on his lips as he conjured up ways to convince you to let up. 

You sighed, placing your phone on the table and pressing the back of your head onto the plush headrest, extending your legs and placing one between Gojo’s thighs. Right where the edge of his seat was. 

Holding your foot up as you ignored the sound of Satoru’s mind reeling up the idea he had deemed brilliant. His smile practically beamed as he inched his hand down to your ankle. 

Satoru was no angel when it came to showing his affection in public. He saw travel with you as a form of foreplay, knowing that even if people were around, they wouldn’t remember a seemingly affectionate couple. 

The first time he propositioned, it was on a plane, asking if you had ever fucked in the air To which you scoffed, ‘Those things are far too small for two people standing. Let alone for two people to fuck.’

Gojo proved you very, very wrong. 

Then came a time when you kept teasing him as he drove, sun setting- bordering on being gone as you unbuckled your seatbelt. Leaning over and playing with his unbusied hand. 

That ended with you jacking him off as he drove, kissing his ear and his temple as he kept two hands gripping the steering wheel. “Focus on driving, or else you’ll crash~” you giggled in his ear. 

Eventually, getting frustrated enough to pull over on the side of the empty highway and fuck you senseless. 

The walks you’d take late at night, the excuse of snacks was used whenever someone asked what you were doing out so late. The truth being, Satoru holding a little control in his pocket, watching you stutter over your own steps from vibrations. Finding thrill in knowing you had a little toy burrowed inside of you that he got to control.

Satoru liked traveling with you because the hours spent on the road seemed unreal. As though it was only the two of you held still in time. Quality time spent with you was all he asked for. 

But, the instances where things got hot and heavy only caused that little voyeur part in his brain to itch. The idea of potentially getting caught was exhilarating to Gojo. 

And here he was, thinking of how easily you could be caught here. Holding your ankle and moving it up his growing bulge slowly. Earning your eyes to snap open and look at the deranged man sitting across the table from you. 

You tried pulling your ankle from his palm, only for his grip to tighten with a prize-winning smile decorating his expression. You purse your lips, about to mutter a curse at him for what he was doing. 

That was till you felt the bottom of your socked sole press against his clothed erection. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him like a mad man, “I didn’t even do anything..?” you spoke through clenched teeth. Referring to Gojo always blaming you for how reactive his cock was around you. 

He always blamed you for doing something that caused his member to rise. “You told me to think about the consequences of my actions-” he scoffed, his eyes lowering and holding your foot to his bulge. 

You shrugged softly, wanting to know what he would put the blame on this time, “You know how much I like when you talk to me like that.” slowly moving your foot to press firmer on his clothed erection. 

You nodded your head disapprovingly, a smug smile gracing your lips. Flashing your eyes to the side to see if the train attendants were near. “I already checked~” he grinned, loosening his grip on your ankle. 

“It’s almost empty- and the attendants don’t do their rounds right now.” Gojo spoke softly. In retaliation, you pressed your foot down the tiniest bit- causing Satoru to let out a choked whimper. 

“That so?” you whispered, curling your toes in the slightest and watching his eyebrows pinch up. Grinning sarcastically, “You researched the train attendant’s schedules?” pressing the arch of your socked foot onto his bulge and watching him writhe with squinted eyes. 

Satoru fluttered his eyes closed, pressing the back of his head onto the seat and sighing softly, “You’re getting off on this..?” you scoffed in disbelief, continuing the slow maneuver with your foot. He only smiled in response, crinkling his nose in the slightest when you’d apply more pressure. 

His fingers barely wrapped around your ankle, some kind of insurance to be sure you wouldn’t pull it away. Gojo’s cock shed small tears of precum onto his briefs from the small movements. 

You gasped quietly, watching the light blush on his cheeks spread down his neck. “You are, aren’t you?” you teased, seeing his closed eyes flex tightly. You scoffed as he parted his lips, coming dangerously close to letting out a small moan. 

The corner of your lip peaked in a smug half-smile, easing the pressure on his bulge and feeling his grasp on your ankle tighten again. “There’s not much I can do here, ‘toru.” you crooned in feigned pity. 

You pulled your ankle from his grasp and watched his eyes snap open, “Don’t want you to make a mess.” you excused softly. Seeing the slight pout form on his lip from your denial.

And it was true; there was nowhere for Satoru to spurt his mess. And as he was thinking of ways to solve this little issue, only you had already come up with a solution.

Getting handsy in the car, even fucking in a plane bathroom- all that was one thing. Being able to rely on the small amount of privacy, but what you were conjuring- 

Gojo looked off to the side, tapping his foot on the ground as he tried to think something up. Only by the time he looked back at you, you were already shifting off the seat and under the table. He furrowed his eyebrows with a meek smile- realizing that, like most of the time, you were always right. 

He let out a small giggle, looking down at his lap and seeing your hands creeping up his thighs. 

Getting frisky with a veil between you and other people was one thing. Still, what you were insinuating- there was a much higher chance of being caught than any of the other times. All it took was one person to look too closely under the table to see you kneeling. 

You traced your hand to his inner thigh, feeling the light shiver that ran through the muscle. Lip tucked between your teeth as you grazed your fingers on his caged cock. Hearing him let out a small whimper, looking up at him from the small space and shushing him. 

“You have to be quiet ‘toru,” you whispered with an overexcited grin. Reaching for the band of Gojo’s sweatpants and pulling it down, revealing his strained boxers with a darkening spot where his tip was. 

Satrou’s hands gripped the ledge of his seat, pressing his lips tightly against each other to not make any noise. 

You pursed your lips, blowing gently onto the damp spot of his briefs and feeling his legs shift on either side of your arms. Darting your tongue past your lips and leaning in, a stifled whimper fell from his taught lips as you dragged your tongue against his clothed shaft. 

Letting out a small laugh from your nose as you circled your tongue onto the damp spot where his tip was. Feeling his body twitch from the millimeter difference between your tongue and his cock. 

Satoru parted his lips with a slight huff, “You have to hurry- no teasing-” You pursed your lips against the fabric, kissing his veiled tip softly. Causing a shuddering inhale to escape his lungs. 

You smiled as you pulled away, teasingly, “I can just stop if you-” inching your hands onto his knees. 

“No, no-” he breathed, “Don’t stop.” he muttered, looking down to your glimmering eyes and parted lips. 

Trailing your hands back up his thighs, hooking your fingers onto the band of his ruined briefs, and pulling them down. Satoru winced at feeling the tug of the band against his shaft. 

Gojo gasped quietly when his tip almost touched the edge of the table. Placing a light hand on the base of his shaft, angling it down, and hearing his hands grip the seat harshly. Bracing for the warmth of your lips. 

You leaned your head down, lips parted and eyes looking up at his bordering-on pained expression. Placing warm, open-mouth kisses on his suede shaft, leaving light glimmers of your spit as his thighs trembled beside you. 

Gojo’s eyebrows were pinched upwards, bottom lip daring to tremble as you licked a long stripe from the underside of his base up to his pinkening tip. His wrists threatened to plant themselves on the side of your head, trembling as you pulled away. Your lips curl as you pursed them, pressing gentle kisses onto his leaking tip. 

Hearing a slight hum rumble from his lungs as you pulled away slightly, parting your lips and placing your tongue onto your bottom lip. 

Pressing his tip onto the flat of your tongue, sliding down ever so slightly before closing your lips on the edge of his cockhead. Earning a choked exhale to come from Satoru’s puffy lips.

Slightly pulsing your tongue up against the underside of his tip, inciting small huffs of air from his lips as you tighten your grasp on his shaft. Blinking your eyes up and watching his jaw dare to fall.

Circling your tongue on his tip in tandem with your other slow stroking hand on his shaft, holding your other hand on his thigh as you blinked your eyes closed. Softly sucking on his tip as you fisted his shaft. 

Satoru closed his eyes- tight. So tight he saw white dots in his vision, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. Bowing his head down, snapping his hand atop yours. Meeting on his thigh, trying his very best not to make a sound. 

Per his request, you wanted to make this as fast as possible. 

But, the tiny trembles of his hand against yours were enough to slowly lap at the tears falling from his cockhead. The stifled whimpers that were muffled from his lips were enough to drag out every stroke your hand made on his shaft.

Sucking in your cheeks around his head, bottom of your tongue licking small stripes on the little v beneath his cockhead. His knees threatened to snap you between them as the tip of your tongue swished up and down his cocks opening, earning an audible shuddering whimper to fall from his nibbled lips. 

The corner of your lips stretched into a smile around his cock, knowing if one whimper came out, more would follow. 

And as he exploits your most sensitive spots, just for a reaction- how unfair would it be if you didn’t do the same?

Humming small vibrations onto his tip, knowing that would coax another whimper from his strained vocal cords. And as you expected, he let out an unpermitted whimper. A lot louder than you were expecting and a lot more pathetic than the ones he would typically voice. 

The hand on his thigh was aching from how hard he was gripping onto you, even if you hadn’t done much. Satoru knew the thrill of doing this in public was what drove him further up his orgasm. 

And as Gojo felt the warmth in his tummy forcefully pool, he was about to mutter a warning. That was until he opened his eyes and saw a stewardess walking down the small walkway. 

He pinched his eyebrows, biting his lip almost too harshly as you stroked him. Looking down at you with panicked eyes as he heard the footsteps pass by him; only your eyes were closed. Too focused on teasing him to notice the distant pattering of steps, Satoru parted his lips with the quietest whimper he could muster. 

He tried murmuring your name as some kind of warning to advise you that he was- “I’m gonna c-” Satoru whispered as he exhaled with a higher pitch at the end of his warning. Only earning for your eyes to blink open as you sucked harshly on his tip. 

Gojo’s torso started lightly spasming as he felt you pull an orgasm out of him- eyebrows pinched together with an eye twitching closed. Lips parted in a quiet whine, and his cheeks beet red. 

His cockhead quivered between your lips as you stroked his shaft with a tenacious grip, working him through the orgasm as his seed slowly oozed from his tip. 

Your tongue greedily lapped up the hot tears of white- replaying the ‘Don’t want you to make a mess.’ in your mind as you swallowed his essence. 

Coating the cavern of your mouth with a light film as he fought off the whimpers and whines you dared him to spill. 

Satoru tried coming down from the pinnacle you threw him off- only your mouth and fist refused to let up. 

Stroking him relentlessly as his hips started to shift in his seat. He looked down at you, nose crinkled with squinted eyes. Feeling your gluttonous tongue lap up any drop that your hand milked from his cock. 

All but telling him with your tongue that you wanted to be sure he wouldn’t make a mess. 

His cock tried to soften in your mouth- but your lips had other plans. Satoru started writhing in his seat, snapping his hands onto the side of your head and pulling you from his cock- too afraid he wouldn’t be able to control his pretty sounds if you kept on. 

Looking down at you- lips puffy and pink, hazy cerulean eyes, and his blush so intense, it looked like he was in the middle of July. 

You grinned, feeling his thumb caress the edge of your jaw, pressing on the tip of your chin, coaxing you to open. To make sure you did as you said you would. 

His nose crinkled in appeasement, a half fucked out smile on the corner of his perching lips. Admiring the way you opened your mouth and slipped your flat tongue out. Showing him you swallowed, getting rid of any evidence or mess he would’ve left had you continued with your arches. 

You assisted in placing his semi-soft cock back into his briefs, patting his thighs before you slipped back up into your seat. 

Smiling at him with half-lidded eyes and crossed arms. Being able to see his expression, his eyes shouting at you for more. 

You pressed your thighs together, watching his shoulders tense. “You wanna go find out where they keep the luggage?” you flashed a toothy smile, watching his eyes light up and nod excitedly. Scoffing with a warm grin as you slipped your shoes back on. 

And in that moment, you thought that maybe- just maybe Satoru had a point in how exciting traveling really was.

-

(a.n) I wanna eat him.

[bits-and-babs]

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐁𝐨𝐲 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Previous Joel Fics: Mule [5.1K], Atta Girl [10.2K]

Summary: Ellie steals one of Bills magazines and you and Joel decide to see what the fuss is about.

Word Count: 3k

CW: Possible spoilers for episode 3, but I haven’t seen it! Based on the game. Heavily inspired by my bestie @foxilayde. A much lighter fic than the last few, a little bit of dry comedy, a little bit of playful Joel, but also a little bashful. Consumption of porn magazine, companions to lovers(?), p in v sex, fingering. Not proof read.

Tease: “Can feel you squeezin’ me. You gonna c** for me?”

“N-Now Ellie, that ain’t for kids-“

“Woaaah!” Ellie had exclaimed, holding up the magazine rustling in her hand by her fingertips, her arm outstretched to take in the whole double page, “How- How the hell would he even walk around with that thing?!”

That had piqued your interest, eyes snapping up to the rearview mirror. Ellie was giggling, grinning from ear to ear as Joel turned in his seat to snatch the paper emblazoned with PLAYGIRL in red lettering from her hand.

“Would you jus’-“

“Hold your horses!” Ellie had insisted, “I wanna see what all the fuss is about!”

You hadn’t said anything at the time, chuckling at the way Joel’s cheeks flushed as Ellie asked all kinds of inappropriate questions. It was only when she discarded the pornographic magazine on the floor of the truck at the end of her smutty inquisition and fell asleep on the back seat upon Joel’s insistence that you made a note of where she had dropped it in the footwell.

Joel, having stopped to rest, slept in the front seat. His head tilted forwards; a gentle snore indicated he was out cold. With some courage and a little luck, you managed to grab the magazine without waking either of the sleeping duo and exit the truck.

Settling back in the bed of the pickup truck now and minding how uncomfortable it was to lean against the metal, you set a flashlight against the floor, open up the worn pages of the filthy magazine and chew nervously on your lower lip.

Of course, you weren’t to judge Bill for his sexuality. You never had before the outbreak, and there certainly wasn’t any point in being a bigot when the world had ended. In fact, thumbing through each crinkled page, you can’t help but thank Bill for his impressive collection of smutty male pages.

Each page had a collection of pictures and articles on everything from the ‘best sex positions for your zodiac signs’ to ‘average penis size of men around the world’. Clearly photographed in the 80s, based on the moustaches alone, each man photographed in a multitude of poses was muscular, slathered in oil, and donning the tiniest speedos while exhibiting the most prominent bulges beneath the aquablade fabric.

Ellie was right, how do they walk around with those things?

One, in particular, caught your eye; the sunset-orange speedos sat snug against the globes of his ass. The muscles in his back were defined, rippling with each of his poses. They were so clear beneath his golden tan you could probably label each picture like an anatomy textbook. He was pretty, and he made your face warm up.

“That your type?” A gruff, rumbling voice makes your body jolt in shock, inhaling a petrified gasp.

Joel had stepped out of the truck while you were distracted by the glutes and pectorals of the gorgeous male models, catching you off guard as he walked up behind you. He crossed his arms over his chest, biceps straining the sleeves of his denim shirt.

“Mhm- N-No! No, I was just reading about how standard American men have a less-than-average dick length,” you lie smoothly to cover up being caught red-handed, using some of the data you had read a few pages back. “What about yours? Is your moody personality compensating for something?”

“You ain’t funny,” he answers flatly, refusing to rise to your childish jabs as he climbs up into the truck bed with you. You catch a glimpse of the pistol buried in the waistband of his jeans, and your pulse races faster than it had with any of the round bums you’d seen in the pages.

“I’d say I’m hilarious. It’s the trauma of experiencing The End. It builds chara-cter,” you ramble, only stuttering when Joel manages to pry the glossy papers from your hands. His eyes scan over the page with a look of disinterest.

“But outta date, don’t you think?” He grumbles in that grumpy, man-child way he does that always has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He’s pointing at the very 80s-style porn staches.

“Dunno, wouldn’t exactly call your facial hair ‘trendy’,” you scoff, watching him flick to the page titled in bold capitals: EXCITING SEX TRICKS TO TRY!

It’s ridiculous. You’re both grown adults, and it’s not as though the two of you were born during the outbreak. You’d both been through high school, and no doubt had sexual partners before Cordyceps took hold of the world. However, the prospect of talking sex with Joel Miller was mortifying.

You can feel the heat creeping up your throat as his eyes scan the sections of information with such indifference that you’re almost sure that he’s bored. Perhaps he was. It wasn’t as though you had caught him taking some time to himself during your great journey.

Joel is so lost in the writing that you allow yourself a moment to take in the slope of his nose, the slant of his cupid's bow framed by his greying moustache. Beneath his creased, frowning brow, his long lashes surround the deep brown of his eyes as they flick back and forth across the page. He was a handsome man. Was there no one waiting for him back in the Boston QZ? He’d never sa-

“The fuck is guddlin’?” Joel speaks out, shocking you from your thoughts with a start. You blink slowly, probably looking really fucking stupid as you choke on the words stuck in your throat when Joel looks up at you with a quirked brow.

“I-“

“I mean, I know guddlin’ in a fishin’ sense,” he interrupts, pointing to the page and prodding it with the tip of his finger, “Not in a-… Not in this sense, though.”

“Does-… Does it not explain?” You ask him quietly, your mouth suddenly very dry. Joel gives a light shrug, his eyes wandering over the page in search of a definition.

“Oh- Here,” he points out. He takes a second to read, his tanned skin tinged with pink as the words sink in. “Uhm… It’s- Well, it’s-“

Poor Joel looks as though he’s seconds away from an aneurysm attempting to explain the bizarre sex act without actually saying it. You scoff, snatching up the crinkled magazine and reading over the asterisk in small print at the bottom of the information page.

‘To insert one's finger(s) into a woman's vagina to pleasure her digitally while simultaneously having penile-vaginal intercourse with her.’

You pause, your lips parting as you look at Joel with a weak laugh. He’s rubbing at the back of his neck, eyes cast somewhere on the horizon in an attempt to avoid your own. He’s as embarrassed as you are, it seems, clearing his throat with a weak chuckle.

“Well,” he mumbled, eyes flicking to the magazine, “Must’a been good for it to end up in that.”

You nod slowly, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you glance down at the black and white print that appears to all blur together in embarrassment. “Mhm.”

You can feel your pulse between your thighs, your skin tingling beneath what you assume is Joel’s gaze. It’s crude, utterly filthy, but you can imagine the stretch, the feeling of his weapon-calloused fingertips coaxing your g-spot as he slowly sinks into you.

Slowly, with trembling hands, you close the magazine with a nervous laugh, discarding it with a half-hearted toss over the edge of the truck bed and onto the roadside. “Stupid shit anyway…”

Your aimless comment is met with silence, and you’re far too humiliated to face the notion of looking at Joel. You imagine he thinks you’re insane, having caught you reading and enjoying this filth.

“… Take it you ain’t tried that before?” Joel’s gruff voice cuts through the sound of the crickets in the surrounding grass, and you can’t help but laugh, simply shaking your head and avoiding his gaze.

A delicate brush of skin against your ankle sparks something raw up your spine. You look at it quickly, seeing Joel’s fingertips tracing the rough circumference of the joint beneath them. Your skin prickles pleasantly, and you look up at your partner- your smuggling partner- through your lashes.

His expression is firm, but his eyes betray his outward calm display. They’re flickering between your lips and eyes, his exhale slow as he attempts to force out some words he appears afraid to put out into the atmosphere.

“Do you… Do you wanna try it?”

It’s haphazard, delivered clumsily, and so utterly unlike Joel. You can see the cringe in his expression when the sentence settles in the air, and your heart lurches when you see he’s sincere. That he wants you and that he’s letting you know after years of hiding it from you.

God, you don’t even give him another second to doubt himself. You’re scrambling into his lap, straddling it and pressing your mouth to his in a kiss that hurts more than it pleases, his teeth scraping your lower lip and your tongue tracing his own.

You can feel it through the thin, worn denim of his jeans, the jump of his cock when you settle your crotch down against the seam. His hands are vicious, grasping handfuls of your thighs, your ass, your hips. He could bruise the shape of his fingerprints into you, and you’d thank him, would beg him to put you through the pain again to brand you as his.

He groans out your name into your mouth, but it sounds more like a growl rattling in his chest. You’re fumbling in the low lighting with his belt buckle, the clinking of the clasp bringing you relief when you free Joel’s hips from their leather confines. It’s almost frantic, the pace you set as you try and fail, try and fail before you successfully pop the button of his jeans and yank them over his hips. There’s not enough time to rid him of them completely, so Joel settles with the waistband resting just above his knees.

“C’mere,” Joel husks, his lips brushing yours as he speaks and forces your cargo pants over your hips without even bothering to let down the zip. It hurts a little, smarts, but it sparks something desperate in you when you realise it’s pulled down your underwear too, leaving you exposed to his gropes.

One hand grasps the globe of your asscheek, giving a brutally harsh squeeze. The other sinks between your thighs. Joel’s groan of delight when he finds the insides of your thighs soaked causes your cunt to throb before he’s even touched it.

"Is that all me?" He asks you, his voice dipping to a deep, spine-shuddering hum. He sweeps the calloused pad of his index fingertip up the inside of your thigh and through your pussy lips. You can hear the wetness there when he notches against your clit, when he sinks the very tip of his fingers into your entrance. "That all me, or did you like the pornstache more than I realised?"

You usually would scoff in Joel's face, tell him to stop being so ridiculous and self-absorbed, but he's slowly circling your frayed bundle of nerves with his thumb, and your jaw is slack. You can't even think of a witty retort, just grasping feebly at the collar of his denim shirt.

"I'm gonna take what I want from that lack of response," he fills the silence for you, an infuriating smirk settling on his lips as he sinks his fingers inside of you.

The lack of resistance and eagerness from your cunt catches you both off guard, Joel groaning in delight as you take the length of his digits so easily. "Fuck~”

You whimper out Joel’s name, thighs trembling on either side of his lap as he coaxes his fingers towards him inside of you and wasting no time in finding the spot that would bring tears to your eyes.

“Ah,” he breathes, a smirk playing on his lips when he sees your torso crumple inwards as his touch brushes something electric inside you. “Ah- that’s it, ain’t it?”

It’s pathetic. You want to answer him, even sob out wordlessly as the wave of pleasure crashes through you at the delicate touch, but your words are stalled in your throat as Joel circles that sensitive wall inside you with his nimble fingers.

“C’mere,” he growls, seeing your expression contorted desperately and deciding he can’t wait much longer. One hand is still busy with building your orgasm, and his other clumsily pulls down his boxers and exposes his ruddy length.

Joel gives you barely a moment to absorb what it is you see, managing to process the pink tinge to the velvet skin of his cockhead and the smear of precum that glistens under the low lighting before he’s hoisting you over him, knees on either side of his hips.

It’s filthy and disgusting and raw, the way he uses his free hand to sweep his cock across your clit. It sparks something dangerous deep inside your abdomen, another wave of increasingly unmanageable bliss that wraps around your spinal cord and constricts your lungs. You barely choke out his name, your fist punching his shoulder as if to say, ‘stop teasing!’ before Joel sinks into your wet heat with a broken rasp of your name.

Tight. Everything is coiled up so tightly inside you as the width of Joel’s cock-head pushes past your entrance, your walls swallowing him and squeezing him as he sinks in slowly. Your fingernails are digging into his shoulders through his denim shirt, tears of bliss welling in your eyes as he fills you completely. All the while he continues to circle and poke and prod at your g-spot, simultaneously building up your orgasm and wrecking you.

“That’s it,” he husks, breathless as he helps you settle down to the hilt of his dick. He’s nudging your cervix, and you feel so impossibly full that your body is trembling around him, pushed to its absolute limit as your tears stream down your cheeks. They drip from your chin, leaving deeper wet stains across the faded blue of his shirt.

Then he’s shoving his hips upwards and into you, and it’s like you can’t hold onto him tight enough. You’re scrabbling for some kind of grip that can brace you against the simultaneous stimulation of his thrusts and his fingers circling something mind-numbingly raw inside you. The rusty parts of the van creak beneath the motion, and between your slurred curses and weak cries of his name, you’re trying to warn him to be quiet, not to wake Ellie.

You can barely manage to coax him on, eyes rolling back and forehead falling forward onto his shoulder as you give in entirely to the creeping orgasm that picks up your spine.

“C-Can feel you,” Joel stumbles over his own words and laughs, his cock twitching inside you as he continues to drag in and out of your abused pussy, “Can feel you squeezin’ me. You gonna cum for me?”

You want to slap him. Want to make him walk to Pittsburgh with this cocky attitude, this cavalier facade that is so unlike his usual brusque persona. Instead, you’re keening for him, nodding your head against his collarbone and squeaking out your best impression of a ‘yes, Joel, please, please!’

Shit- it’s coming. You feel it racing through you before he even delivers his devastating blow. You think it can’t get any more intense, that it can’t feel any better than this, until he’s pushing his hips upwards and manoeuvres his hand to brush his thumb against your swollen, sensitive clit.

The print of his thumb doesn’t even make it a full rotation before your orgasm comes roaring forwards, slamming through your body to the point it’s almost painful in the best way. You’re quick to smother your scream of his name, biting down hard on the denim fabric at Joel’s throat and releasing the devastating shout of his name into the fibres between your teeth.

Poor Joel stumbles with how hard your body clamps down on him, his galloping thrusts reduced to sloppy stutters of his hips as a grating, pained groan rattles through his ribs beside your ear. Distantly, you can feel him pulsing inside you, filling you until his cum is spilling down the sides of his cock.

“God-“ He chokes out, voice catching in his throat as you heave for breath. It’s not as though he has the energy to lift you from him, still buzzing. You’re somewhere else entirely, vision blurry and consciousness far outside the dermis walls of your body.

Slumped against Joel, you focus on breathing. How do you do it again? In and out… In and out. It’s embarrassing, the way he’s left you unsure of essential bodily functions. The ease with which he’s numbed your mind and body.

Ironically, though, he makes it easier to find your way back to yourself. His steady, albeit heavy, breathing ticks like a metronome, easing you down from the impossible high you’ve ascended beneath his touch. He smells like salty sweat, like mud that cakes his boots and the truck's tyres.

“You think maybe we should pick that magazine back up?” Joel mumbled into your hair, oddly quiet and almost shy despite the blunt delivery of the query.

Pausing, you glance up at him through your lashes and catch a tinge of embarrassment on his cheeks. He’s staring down at the sidewalk next to the tyres, no doubt eyeing up the pages strewn across the cement flags.

“… Well,” you whisper, voice hoarse, “You never know what survival skills we might need. With your blueprints for Molotovs and upgrading weapons and my articles on ‘bizarre sex positions’, we’re bound to survive the apocalypse-“

“Alright, darlin’,” Joel attempts to speak you down from your amused ramblings, made awkward by the crudeness of the conversation once again.

“I mean, what the fuck is the ‘Pretzel Dip’?”

“Fuck if I know,” he admits with an air of chagrin.

“… You’re not much of a playboy, are you Miller?”

“Shut up and put your pants on.”

END

@hoeneey @howaboutcastiel @welcometostayingawake @syrma-sensei @ethanhoewke @polaroidpetal @foxilayde @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @zakizigekwe @ahookedheroespureheart @buckys-other-punk @anxious-sappho @alexloveskili @captainrexstan @astroboots @knights-power @southcrnbelle @niallsbunny @hold-our-destiny @vermillionwinter @stormkobra-5 @erenbissexual @alwritey-aphrodite @maggotzombie @deadpige0n @bakerstreethound @whatthehekko @cottagebunny9 @bit-dodgy-innit @peachyproserpina

[daycourtofficial]

Loving parents, harmless fun

Pairing: Modern!Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 950 | warnings: none

Summary: slice of life gingerfucker where Eris takes his family on a roadtrip and is only slightly annoyed at his son’s choice of car game

Note: this is a part of my gingerfucker series and is for AU day for @erisweekofficial ❤️

“That’s my cow.”

Atlas’s voice rang through the car, a high pitch of excitement to his words as his finger pointed out the window, Leif’s eyes tracking the movement. Eris paid no attention to either of his sons, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Those are my chickens.”

It was a four hour drive to his in-laws house, to see his wife’s brother and his family. He counted down from ten in his head, trying to remind himself that holidays are supposed to be fun. The car was silent as he leaned his head back, his fingers curling around the steering wheel. The soft sounds of Bon Iver came from the speakers, an album that reminds him of cold, dark drives he took in the winters of his youth. It was a rare occasion - no one was begging for him to play Alvin and the Chipmunks or songs about ducks.

There was enough daylight for them to arrive at their destination before sunset, which gave him hope that maybe Atlas wouldn’t stay up too late tonight. Leif had a strict internal clock - he did most things at the exact same time each day. But his oldest, Atlas, was a mystery, his body having no internal clock for him to follow, leaving Eris clueless as to when he would fall asleep or wake up.

Eris maneuvered their vehicle through the curves of the road, taking in how beautiful the pastures around him were. It was the end of autumn when the vibrance of the leaves are going, occasional glimpses of the red and orange hues that he loved seeing so much. Atlas’s excited yell disrupted the too short peace. “That’s my cow!”

“If I have to hear him decide farm animals are his one more time,” Eris trailed off, his annoyance bubbling, his voice low so only you could hear.

“It was your brother who taught him the game.”

Eris didn’t turn to see the smirk on your face, he could tell by your voice that you were amused by Lucien’s never-ending knowledge of what buttons to push to annoy Eris.

It was a simple game - you see a cow, you claim it. It was cute when they were in the city - Atlas would see cows in billboards and claim them. Out in the country where the cows outnumbered the people - less fun.

“I don’t think he should be allowed near children ever again.”

“Oh yeah? Because he’s like every other uncle the kids have and likes to pay attention to them before teaching them annoying games?”

“My thoughts exactly. He’s also annoying so it means I’d see him less.”

“My cows.”

Atlas broke up your conversation, The quip Eris was sure you had ready dying on the tip of your tongue as his anger flared.

“Where are we - cow country?”

“Yes. You insisted we take back roads so the kids would have more sights. And to delay us getting to Rhysand’s.”

Eris should be surprised you saw through his reasoning for adding forty-five minutes to the drive, but he should know better than to think his wife doesn’t see to the root of all of his actions. The main reason you all were driving instead of flying to Rhysand’s home was simple - he wanted an easy escape. If you were flying, flights are planned and you have to wait for the plane. But if you have your car, you can just leave whenever Eris grows frustrated at his annoying in-laws. Or he can make an excuse for a reason to leave.

“My cows.” Leif’s first cows. You cooed, a soft “good job, Leif” whispered to him. Eris could see the tips of his hair from the rearview mirror, but he knew Leif was glowing in the praise from you.

“Why are we visiting again?”

“Because Feyre had their new baby.”

“Oh, that.” He practically deflated in his seat at how good the reason was for going, hoping that somehow the reason had changed and you could all turn around.

“Eris don’t act like you don’t love Nyx.”

He felt the eyeroll before it happened, slowly coming up on a red light. His wife was right - Nyx was an adorable kid who was very good, despite being half Rhysand and spending a good portion of his time with his uncle Cassian.

“My bird.”

Eris sighed through his nose. The car moved past a cemetery and Eris pointed out the window, “look, all of your cows are dead.”

Gasps were heard from all around him as if he just announced something outlandish. You slapped his arm, causing him to wince. “Eris,” his name was a hiss from your mouth, your eyes focused on him and not looking back at your sons. “They’re sensitive about that.”

Your words were mumbled, the sound having to work past your closed jaw to make it to Eris so the boys wouldn’t hear you.

“They’re fine,” he mouthed back to you, trying his best not to coddle them. It was a tricky line - one he needed frequent help navigating. Having a shitty father isn’t really the best role model for a man. A deep insecurity of his - was he being a regular dad or was he being too harsh? His train of thought was interrupted by Atlas’s hands hitting the car window, desperate for everyone’s attention.

“A hospital! My cows are alive again!”

Eris rolled the car to a stop at the red light, his forehead hitting the steering wheel.

“I thought I had won.”

A hand reached out to rub his back for a moment before he lifted his head, waiting for the light to change to green. The car moved forward, a family undeterred.

“My cow.”

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Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @panther-girl-124

[dyingfeline]

a look back

[alwaysmicado]

keep you warm

1.3k | Joel Miller x f!reader

post-outbreak, established relationship, pregnancy Summary: You reveal to Joel that you are carrying his child. He vows to keep you both safe and warm, always. A/N: This fic is a bit different from the things I've posted so far and it was so much fun to write. I put my heart (and tears) in it and I hope it will bring you as much comfort as it did me. 🤍 series masterlist

There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights. - Bram Stoker, Dracula

The car engine growls softly as it cruises down the winding road, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of autumnal hues.

Joel has his hands placed firmly on the wheel as he glances over at your sleeping form, your silhouette painted in the warm glow of the sunset. The air inside the car is filled with a comfortable silence, the weight of your continued journey hanging in the atmosphere.

As you navigate through the autumn landscape, daylight begins to fade, casting long shadows that sway with the curves of the road. Joel steals a glance in the rearview mirror, squinting against the diminishing light. The forest on either side of the road stands like a wall of rust and amber, a silent observer to your passage.

You stir in your sleep, a soft moan escaping your lips. Joel reaches, caressing your cheek gently, tracing a promise with tenderness he thought long gone. 

Until he met you.

A few miles ahead, Joel spots a fitting spot by the edge of the forest. He eases the car to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The engine hums into silence, leaving only the rustling of leaves and the fading whispers of the day.

“We’re here, darlin’.” 

Your eyes flutter open to Joel’s soft touch, his hand brushing away the remnants of sleep. You both step out, the cool evening air enveloping you like a gentle embrace.

Setting up camp unfolds as a familiar routine. Joel sparks a small fire, the flames dancing in the encroaching darkness. The scent of burning wood mixes with the crisp fall air, creating an ambiance that is both comforting and hauntingly beautiful. You arrange your sleeping bags near the fire, a makeshift sanctuary in the wilderness.

As you sit by the fire, the warmth casting a soft glow on your faces, Joel pulls out two cans of beans and some beef sticks. You eat in companionable silence, the crackling of the fire punctuating the stillness.

Yet, Joel can’t help but notice the subtle changes in you—grimaces and absent-minded belly rubs.

He sets his half-eaten bowl down, a subtle tension settling into the contours of his expression as he watches you closely. “You ain’t lookin’ too good, honey,” he notes, his voice laced with concern, slicing through the ambient crackling that reverberates in the air. “Somethin’ not sittin’ right?”

Gazing at Joel across the fire-lit expanse, his weathered face bathed in the flickering glow of the dancing flames, your heart swells with love—and dread.

You clutch your belly as you double over, a sudden, strong wave of nausea overcoming you. Startled, Joel’s eyes widen, but he reacts instinctively, abandoning all else to rush to your side.

With a tender urgency, he crouches beside you as you vomit, his hands moving intuitively to cradle your back. His voice, usually rugged and steady, softens into a soothing cadence. “Easy now, darlin’,” he murmurs, rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I’m right here.”

Your body tenses with each convulsion, tears mingling with the involuntary heaves, but Joel’s steady hands and reassuring words calm you.

As the waves of nausea subside, he eases you back, offering a makeshift cloth to wipe your mouth. His gaze holds a blend of worry and tenderness, the firelight flickering in the depths of his eyes.

“Thanks,” you manage, your voice still shaky.

“That’s alright, darlin’,” he replies, a crooked half-smile playing on his lips. “We look out for each other, remember?”

Nestling closer to the warmth of the fire, Joel wraps a comforting arm around you. The quiet forest listens, an unspoken witness to the vulnerability shared beneath the starlit sky.

“You gonna tell me what’s been goin’ on?” Joel asks, his voice a gentle yet firm prompt.

You swallow hard and nod weakly, lifting your head up from his shoulder to meet his gaze. His brow is furrowed as he searches your watery eyes for answers. “What happened, darlin’?” he asks, wiping away the lone tear that is tracing a delicate path down your cheek.

The unspoken secret sits heavy within you, a silent burden that has been shaping every whispered conversation and stolen glance over the past few weeks. Each passing day deepens the weight, a constant companion in your shared journey.

The fear of Joel’s reaction, the uncertainty of the world you are living in, and the vulnerability of bringing innocence into chaos weave a complex tapestry of emotions, a heavy cloak draped over the anticipation of a new life.

You have never been more terrified. 

“Joel, I–” your voice is shaky and you need to gather all your strength to not break down into a million pieces. “I think I might be pregnant.”

The revelation hangs in the air, momentarily freezing time. Joel’s eyes widen, a mosaic of emotions crossing his face—shock, concern, disbelief, and then a surprising warmth.

He reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “Pregnant?” he repeats, his voice softer now, tears glistening in his eyes.

“Mhm,” you sniffle, your vulnerability echoing in the quiet night. “I swear I wanted to tell you before, I just–” you hiccup and wipe away your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. “I’m so fucking scared, Joel.” You look into his warm eyes for reassurance, your lip quivering, your whole body trembling with anxiety.  

Joel’s expression softens further, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he puts his hands on your arms, his eyes boring into you. “It’s gonna be alright, darlin’.” He pulls you into a gentle embrace, the firelight casting a comforting glow around you.

“We’ll figure it out together.”

As Joel’s reassuring words wash over you, a tangible weight lifts from your shoulders, carried away by the currents of relief. You allow yourself to breathe out a heavy sigh and let your tears run freely as you cling to the man who has saved you in more ways than he will ever know.

In this moment, beneath the vast canvas of the starlit sky, you find solace in each other—a fragile yet resilient hope kindling in the midst of your endless journey. 

Later, as you settle into your sleeping bags, Joel’s arm draped protectively over you, you feel a surge of gratitude. The warmth of Joel’s body pressed against yours creates a safe haven, momentarily replacing your fears with the undeniable comfort you both find in each other’s arms. 

“Sarah always wanted a little brother or sister,” Joel breaks the silence with a murmur, his warm breath ghosting your neck. “I wish she could be here to experience it.”

“I’m sure she’s going to look after her little sibling,” you whisper with a soft smile on your lips, tears silently pooling in the fabric of your sleeping bag. “Just like she’s been looking after you all this time.”

“I’ll do everything to keep you and our child safe and warm, my love. I promise.”

In the quiet cradle of the night, you drift into sleep, the rustling leaves and the forest’s whispers weaving a lullaby for your dreams.

Joel tenderly places his hand on your small bump, whispering promises to the precious life growing within, his words a secret shared with the quietude of the night. 

He lifts his head to look at your face, a soft smile gracing his lips as he cherishes the serenity painted across your features.

“You are the light of my life.”

-----

Series Masterlist | Joel Masterlist

[abilouwrites]

DONT WAIT FOR THE TIDE

JUST TO DIP BOTH YOUR FEET IN

“You really wanna go on a road-trip?” I ask Buck as he throws a duffel into his Jeep and then more gently tucks my duffel next to his, I look out at the cold greys and harsh blues in the sky. The clouds threaten to launch a downpour any moment, “it’s the middle of December Buck”

“Yeah, yeah it’ll be good for us to get out of town for a while. See the coast. San Fran and Santa Cruz” He rambles, I’ve seen him rushing but he’s never been so eager to kick it before.

“Buck I lived in San Jose, I know all those places. I’ve been there before. What’s this really about?” I inquire as he opens my door and helps me in then proceeds to jump into the drivers side and we speed off.

“I just, everything at work has been so crazy lately and I just need to blow town for a little while. And I thought, why don’t I do that with my favorite lady who knows all the best spots” he reasons brushing through his loose curls as we slow at a traffic light.

“Ok..” I shrug a little; I’ve been with this man long enough to know when to push and when to not, “how’s Eddie doing?” I ask, “losing his wife must’ve been hard” I pick my knee up and place my feet on the dash before Buck swats them down, “I’m in my socks!”

“That is how you break your pelvis and your legs so feet where they go babe” He corrects gently, moves a hand from the wheel to gently caress my thigh. Covered in my Stanford crewneck and leggings with my fuzzy Christmas socks on. I’m a little more comfortable than if I was in jeans and a hoodie.

“Alright alright, but Chris is good?” I ask turning my head as he looks at the GPS.

“Yeah, he misses his mom and Eddie’s shut down a little bit but I think with some therapy he might start coming back.. Athena and Bobby have been helping out with dinners n stuff” he explains, checking over as he merges into the freeway.

“That’s good, god I love those two. Real good people” I nod a little shifting in my seat as Buck continues driving.

“I was thinking, Santa Cruz, we go see your parents, San Fran, then drive back. Skip LA and just head straight to San Diego?” He asks looking over. Just a peeking glance at my expression before he turns his attention back to the road.

“Buck, y’know I love you but it’s gonna be freezing in San fran and Santa Cruz and driving past home Buck what’s up? I’m gettin worried” I peek over at him, seeing a large sigh from his chest.

“I’m scared. To go back. That I’ll get hurt again. Or someone else will get hurt again. I’m starting to think I’m just full of bad luck” He breathes a little looking in the rearview mirror before speeding up slightly.

“Oh” I don’t really have anything to say, no words to comfort him, no piece of advice to say ‘I’d been there, I know how you feel’ because I don’t know how he feels. I don’t know what it’s like to die on the job, or to see my friends face death, “I can’t tell you that I’ve been there and give you advice” I admit, “baby, the best I can do for you is to tell you that I’m here for you. And we have about six hours for you to tell me all about your feelings”

I see a faint smile and he shakes his head, “nah, I don’t need you to be my therapist, but I appreciate it.. more than you know” He tugs at his earlobe and sits back a little.

We sit in silence, I’ve got my AirPods in and watching the view. Bucks hand shifts from the steering wheel to my thigh where he just holds it.

We arrive in Santa Cruz at sunset, the beach is cold and the sand pricks at my toes as I slip my socks off, “come on bucky” I smile a little, it’s been years since I’ve been to this beach. I grasp his hand, he falters slightly before following after me. A quick surge foreword as he drops my hand then lifts me over his shoulder. I gasp slightly and grip onto his shirt, “Evan!”

“You run too slow, y’know I’m trained to run carrying a hell of a lot more than what you weigh” He sasses slightly, lowering me as the waves lick at my feet. It’s a re-assuring smile he gives me as he leans in and kisses me softly.

I smile into the kiss and wrap my arms around his neck. Locking my fingers into the soft blondeish brunette curls, “y’know. I didn’t realize how much I needed to get out of the city until I actually got out” I murmur as he turns and we stand side by side. The waves crashing into my ankles, starting to wet the edges of my leggings. The water starts to soak into Bucks jeans. He holds my hand, stuffing it into his hoodie pocket. I lean against his bicep, his finger rubs against my thumb.

“Good trip then?”

“Definitely”

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 85)

Alexia Putellas x Character (41)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((3.7k))

Due to popular demand, I'm going to post a chapter bi-weekly, every Thursday and Sunday night until we hit Part 100!

RIDLEY POV

Ridley was staring at Alexia’s thigh, desperate to reach out and rest her hand there. If only they were at that stage. There was a good chance she wouldn’t have brushed her off, but Alexia had made it quite clear where she stood.

She was strong, independent and proud. She’d let Ridley know she’d fucked up, and would need to earn her back. Luckily for her, Ridley was patient, and her mind was already made up. It was made up when she knelt in front of her in that plane. When she’d asked her to come with her. When she’d let Sasha see her, and vice versa. Ridley was fine with playing the long game. She just so happened to be fighting with her usually iron-clad discipline which seemed to be wavering the longer she spent with her.

Watching her tanned thigh reflecting the setting sun as she sat next to her in shorts. Watching her body in nothing but bikini bottoms as she strode through the water at the beach. Watching her sleep in the plane, her cheek cuddled against Ridley’s hand as she held it. And she’d never forget the show she’d put on for her just a few hours prior. Fuck. She almost ripped the arms off the chair.

The way her body moved. The way she used her to get what she wanted. And not only that, but to prove her point.

‘Earn me, Lee.’

Ridley had already planned on that. And she’d already known that she’d never take her for granted again. She was Alexia. And she deserved much more than how closed off Ridley had been thus far.

“Set the new MDA.”

She watched as Alexia put in the new minimum descent altitude and smiled at her eagerness. She’d be taking her on many more flights in the future, and Alexia was a quick learner thus far.

“I have control.” She said in English.

“You have control.”

Most definitely a quick learner.

Ridley flew down the approach until they could see the lights of the runway and continued as per the arrival procedure. Alexia watched interested the entirety of the time, whilst stroking Chiquito. She did wonder if they should leave him on the island, but he was too well behaved, and to be honest, she still felt guilty for leaving him. She loved him.

“No… water?” Alexia asked, staring at the lights and realising it was a bitumen runway.

“This is an amphibious aircraft. It can land on both.”

“But… how?”

Ridley couldn’t help her own smirk. She answered without words. As she was approaching her DA, she called, “Gear down,” and selected it.

Alexia watched out the window as the landing gear extended from the floats on the aircraft with wonder. She’d officially caught the flying bug, and Ridley was loving every second.

They landed around 2100 local time, and parked up the aircraft in a hangar that she’d been given for use by the Thai military. She’d done a bit of work with them, and they were aware of her current situation. While they were in their country, they were under their protection. Everybody was on alert.

The public, however, did not need to know.

They’d offered her the hangar so as to keep the aircraft private and limit her exposure. She already felt uncomfortable having to come into town, but she knew they were safe.

They were picked up in a ‘taxi’ and brought to town. The taxi was just that, though the driver was also military, dressed as a civilian. Alexia didn’t need to know that.

“Thank you!” She said as she exited the vehicle. Ridley exchanged glances with him in the rearview mirror as he handed her a card with a number to call for their ride back.

“Thank you,” she murmured in Thai and exited.

As she did so, she scoped the surroundings, tense. There were many people. That meant many opportunities for danger. She needed to back them into a corner.

Ridley moved right up against Alexia who looked at her with those intelligent hazel eyes of hers. She could tell Ridley was nervous, though she wondered if she knew why.

Ridley leant in to kiss Chiquito as he sat on the footballers shoulder.

“It’s busy,” she murmured.

“You should have seen the fake festival a few nights ago.”

“The fake one?”

Ridley gave her a reassuring smile as she took her arm and led her through the crowd towards a specific shop in the corner.

“The festivals are religious, and very popular with tourists,” she explained. “They celebrate Yee Peng, the floating lanterns in the sky, and Loy Krathong, the floating lanterns down the river to honour Buddha. They tend to happen on the same day – the 12th full moon of the year. Yee Peng is a celebration to ask for good luck and wisdom. Loy Krathong honours the water goddess and frees you from the sins and burdens of your past. At midnight, we release our floating lanterns into the sky at Tha Phae Gate, and then we make the journey down to the Mae Ping River to release the Krathong.” A man stumbled backward and she stopped, letting him fall past in front of them before continuing. Alexia hit her back with sound that Ridley very much enjoyed in her ear. “This tends to be done separately, and there are thousands of tourists who show up. But the locals are smart. They choose a date that looks like the full moon and have their festivals for the outsiders. They leave a day in between before the actual full moon.” She stopped at their destination and found who she wanted to. He nodded at her with a smile. They’d met before, and he knew she always came every year.

“So they trick the tourists into a fake celebration so they can celebrate alone?”

“Precisely.”

“But what about the full moon? They can’t hide that.”

“People can’t tell the difference between a 99% moon, and a full one.” She took hold of Alexia’s jaw gently, relishing the feel of her skin, and tilted it up to the full moon. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened. Ridley couldn’t look away from her.

“It’s full.”

“Tonight is the real festival for locals and friends only, ” she murmured lowly enough that Alexia turned back to her with a smile. Ridley turned to the man who was sitting with his items in between his feet. “Alexia, this is Kiet.” She said in Spanish, and switched to Thai. “Kiet, this is Alexia.”

He nodded politely and gestured to the seat in front of him. Alexia looked to Ridley who nodded and then sat. She sat next to her.

“Kiet is a monk. He doesn’t speak. He’s going to help us to make our khom loi sky lantern and our floating krathong.”

She gave an excited smile. There she is. That was Alexia. Not the person she had to be for the cameras.

“Much better than buying them. This is respectful, and traditional. I’ll make the sky lantern, and you the krathong with Kiet. Follow along with him.”

She did exactly that as Ridley made the sky lantern like she’d done many times before. Alexia seemed to notice.

“You’ve done that before…” She was wanting information. More of Ridley.

“Every year I’m here celebrating with Kiet and the locals.”

Alexia’s surprised eyes met hers and flashed with something similar to sympathy. Did she think she came here because she didn’t have a family?

She looked over Alexia’s shoulder and saw Chiquito introducing himself to the local cats. He’d only ever been with her once, last year. He was very young and a lot more shy then, and so she didn’t know if he’d remember it. He did, of course, and then he wandered out further to where Ridley spotted a familiar face. She gave a wink of an acknowledgement and looked back to her task at hand.

Ridley finished her sky lantern quickly, and Alexia looked a little disheartened.

“It’s much, much more simple and less significant than the krathong, Lex,” she reassured. “Most first-timers can take five hours to make one of those. You’re doing exceptionally. Even Kiet looks impressed.”

That earnt her a grateful smile with… maybe a little blush? Ridley couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and touching her cheek gently where it reddened.

She caught herself before Alexia could say anything. “I’m going to get us some drinks. Do you have a preference?”

“Anything will do.”

She looked at Kiet and gestured a drink. He gave a wordless smile and nod.

Ridley stood gingerly, feeling the strain of her stitches and walked over to the familiar vendor with the drinks.

“So she’s the one, huh?” Duce asked as she pet Chiquito. “The one to tame our feisty Romeo.”

Ridley rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“We needed to know you were safe,” she gestured over at Becks who was hiding in the corner, eating. They exchanged a knowing look, though their expressions didn’t change. He was the only person who she’d seem eat more than Lucy. Understandable for such a big guy.

“The Pa Wai are hanging around,” she said, her eyes wandering and locating them one by one. The Pa Wai Airborne were the special forces of the Thai military, and they’d worked with them on more than multiple occasions.

Duce nodded as she fixed her drinks. “We saw that. They’re looking nervous.”

“Should they be? I assume you have an update.”

“My update is to stay on the fucking island. No transponder.”

“That bad?”

Duce caught her eye and it was serious.

“Fuck.”

“Mmnhmn. He’s going after you. The price he has on your head has all sorts of people coming out of the woodworks.”

“Alexia’s family…” She looked over at the Spaniard who was laughing with Kiet, as he gave her a thumbs up. She looked over at Ridley which made her melt. She was happy, and wanted to share it with her. When she looked away again, Ridley’s jaw locked.

“We’re on lockdown. The general is in contact with the special forces in Spain. They’re keeping a close eye on her family. They won’t be touched. Before you say anything – Blue and Lucy are also well taken care of with the SAS. Along with their family and friends.”

Ridley’s jaw twitched and tightened further. She’s mentioned Blue, of course. But never Lucy. Obviously they all kept tabs on each other, but it was a little confronting to hear it out loud.

“They’re safe then?”

She nodded, “All teams are on board. Bashir now has a shoot to kill order. He’s number one.”

Replacing his dad already. She knew he’d be an issue.

“So what you’re saying is that we can’t leave the island until he’s dead?”

Duce took a deep breath as she put the drinks up on top of the cart. Her eyes flickered to Alexia and back to Ridley. “I know it’s not ideal, but we need you to stay there as long as possible. My team is tracking him. We’re getting more help than I’ve ever thought possible. You have some powerful friends, Romes. It’s only a matter of time.”

Her business. All of the favours she’d done. The things she’d accomplished when it shouldn’t have been possible. If her business went down, it would effect almost every business with an aircraft in the world, including the military contracts.

“Alexia needs to get back to train and play.”

“What are you giving me to work with?”

She took a moment to think. “Until the seventh.”

“Just over a week…” she pondered, thinking. Ridley knew her brain was calculating whether they’d be successful by then.

“Alexia needs to be back fresh and training by the 8th. Barca play on the 9th.”

“You can always call management directly and go above everyone’s head.”

Her eyes found Alexia again as she crafted her krathong. Chiquito rubbed his head against Ridley’s cheek and then returned to the footballer. “I’ve thought of that… but I’m not going to mess with her career. She needs to be back for her mental health. She thrives around friends. And she needs to get back playing again. She’s going through a mental block with her knee at the moment. She’s worried it’s going to go again. It’s not. I need her to strengthen it and get back to confident la Reina again. She won’t be satisfied until she gets that back.”

When she didn’t receive a response, she turned to see Duce’s sly grin. “You really love her.”

Ridley’s response was to turn back to Alexia and watch her again.

“Becks was right to push you towards her,” Duce admitted. She looked around before quickly pressing a kiss to Ridley’s cheek, hard. “We love you, Romes. We’ll do everything to keep you and your girl safe. Stay off grid. I’ll give Sash the updated message when you switch back aircraft on the seventh.”

“Thanks, Duce.”

“And?”

She rolled her eyes as she picked up the three drinks. “Love you too.”

“Girl, you have it bad. Old Romes would have told me to fuck off,” she chuckled with a wink.

Ridley let out a defeated groan as she wandered back over to the pair, placing their drinks in front of them.

Just before midnight, Ridley stood opposite Alexia inside the old walled city of Chiang Mai, right by Tha Phae Gate. It was much less crowded than when the tourists were around, and much more respectful and quiet. She clocked Duce, Becks and a few others and relaxed a little as she looked at the woman opposite her.

She held the lantern Ridley had made, and looked confused at the small bowl the Australian was extending towards her.

“Wax, for the fire.” She gestured to the hollow ring in the centre at the bottom.

Alexia covered it with wax, and Ridley couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of her fingers spreading it on.

“And now?”

“Now we wait,” she murmured. “We’ll release it together.”

The clock struck 11:59pm and Ridley took Alexia’s free hand in her own, placing the lighter in it, and covering her hand. When the other lanterns started to light up, she flicked their lighter on and together they raised it to light their lantern.

When midnight struck, Ridley’s eyes were on Alexia and Alexia alone as they released it together. Her head tilted back, the smile on her face heartwarming as she watched it float away with wonder. She closed her eyes. To make a wish, perhaps? She couldn’t help but take a photo to preserve the memory.

When she opened her eyes, they were staring straight at Ridley. She didn’t hide the feelings she knew were portrayed obviously on her face.

Only then did she let herself look up at their lantern floating away, and she herself, made a wish against the sea of lanterns rising in the sky.

They were towards the front of the procession for the kilometre walk down to the river. The krathong Alexia had made was beautiful and better than she’d ever made one. It was traditional, made from banana stems and leaves, with incense and lotus flowers, and a candle in the middle. When the banks were lined with the local procession, they lit their candles one by one, and together again, gently placed it in the river. Chiquito stepped down from Alexia’s shoulder and put his paw on it, patting it. They watched as it floated away, taking the negativity of sin and burden with it, she hoped. She couldn’t help but take another photo of her.

As they stood close, watching the stunning image of the krathongs floating away with the river, Alexia reached out and took her hand. Ridley twitched, her body not liking that she wouldn’t have a hand free should she need it but she shoved that aside and interlaced their fingers, holding her hand and stroking the back with her thumb. Alexia relaxed against her. She was tired, and ready for sleep.

Kiet came to them before they left and took Ridley’s wrist, tying a white cotton bracelet around it, like he did every year. She thanked him. He turned to Alexia and gestured for hers. She extended it, trustingly, and he did the same. She followed in Ridley’s footsteps by thanking him. He put a hand over his heart in a gesture of goodbye and disappeared into the crowd. She’d see him next year.

Alexia turned to Ridley with a question in her eyes.

“It’s called a sai sin bracelet and it symbolises purity. The thread is blessed by monks. It’s said to provide protection and good health.”

She looked back down at the bracelet and inspected it further.

Ridley took that opportunity to text the ‘taxi’ driver.

She squeezed her hand and led her back through the crowd of locals, acknowledging her friends with her eyes. Alexia held onto her hand and the back of her shirt as they waded through the people, Ridley very much on the lookout.

They met the taxi where it’d dropped them, and he drove them straight back to the airport.

When they arrived, and Alexia had gotten out, she reached over with some money to pay him, and clapped hands as a sign of respect. This was how the world worked, really. Alliances. Friendships.

Alexia fell asleep on the flight back, her high cheekbones reflecting the full moon as she gently slept, her head facing Ridley and her lips parted slightly. She woke during the descent and looked out over the blackened water.

“You’re allowed to land on water at night?”

“No unless it’s an emergency or you’re exceptionally well trained.”

She turned to Ridley with an eyebrow raised and rolled her eyes at the cocky grin she received.

“It’s a full moon. You should see it when there’s none at all.”

They landed around 0400 and Ridley taxied them in carefully, turning the engines off and floating up to the buoy where she tied off.

They used the dinghy to get back to shore, and once there, Ridley pulled it up onto the sand.

Once back inside their cabin, she could relax. Their phones had their batteries removed. She hadn’t used a transponder during the flight. There was no way to track them there. They were safe.

She let out a sigh as she removed her shirt and bra.

From nowhere, two hands slid around her waist, and a body pressed up against her back. She could feel Alexia was naked from the waist up and let out a small groan as her tension eased.

The Spaniard placed a lingering kiss to the top of her spine and then hugged her for what seemed like an eternity and not long enough all at once.

Alexia let go, only to take her hand and lead her to the bed, and onto it. Ridley lay down and Alexia moved on top of her, straddling her hips with her hands on her abs. They spoke more in looks than in words.

She leant forwards, her blonde hair framing their faces, giving them privacy from the outside world as her lips found hers.

It was soft at first. Loving. It slowly grew to beyond that though, as more of their emotions for each other seeped through. Ridley’s hands found her hips and Alexia stopped immediately, pulling back. She took Ridley’s hands and placed them up the bed, shaking her head.

She wasn’t ready to let her touch her again just yet.

Alexia’s mouth found hers again, kissing and eventually their tongues met, brushing over each other as they exchanged so many deep, longing feelings between them.

Her fucking mouth.

She’d dream about that again.

Alexia broke off their kiss to move her mouth down her body, exploring over her skin. She kissed and stroked her way down, taking her time, stopping to suck her nipples and focus love onto the areas that held impurities like her scars and tattoos.

She looked up at her for each one, a question in her eyes, and Ridley knew she’d ask about them one day. But not today. Today Alexia’s expression showed that they wouldn’t be having a conversation for the rest of the night. Not verbally, anyways.

As she reached past her hips, she wriggled Ridley’s shorts and underwear off, discarding them onto the floor.

What had she done to deserve this? Fuck.

Alexia worked her way down her legs and back up, being gentle with her injury, and then giving much more attention to her inner thighs which she settled between.

Ridley spread her legs without shame, because what was there to be ashamed about? She had a good body. Everything was natural and normal. She felt safe and comfortable around Alexia. And she certainly wasn’t ashamed by the state her body was in just being around her.

Alexia’s eyes found her core and darkened, her attention taken completely. She put Ridley’s good thigh over her shoulder as her mouth found her and the excitement she’d drawn from her.

At the feel of her lips and tongue lapping up her wetness, she moaned, her eyes shutting.

She wanted to grab Alexia’s hair to hold her there. To guide her. But she was being good. As her tongue entered her, Ridley’s body shuddered and Alexia moved with her, with one hand holding her by the waist and the other flat on her abdomen as if to hold her down.

She moved up and latched onto her clit, starting slowly and working her up to a state where Ridley had to grab at the bedhead above her to not use her hands. Her cast hand complained but she completely ignored it, instead letting herself be taken by the overwhelming distraction that was Alexia eating her out.

“F…fuck. Lex.” She let herself groan so vocally.

Alexia seemed encouraged by that and her efforts increased somehow as she moaned her excitement into her cunt. She worked Ridley right up to the point of strangled gasps, whimpers and moans, and held her body still as she came into her mouth with a large, much-needed release of tension.

Ridley couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever come like that. Or the last time she hadn’t controlled her orgasm.

Fuck.

Alexia.

[team-118]

don't wanna ruin the moment

790 words, buddie, pre-relationship/gen, 4×12 Treasure Hunt missing scene

Just Eddie, next to Buck on the freeway, windows down to let the night in. Just Eddie with a lot to smile about.

read it on ao3.

the lovely @queerweewoo and @userbuddie had tagged me for snippets in the past couple weeks and I'd had nothing to show, so this one's for y'all.

"Five hundred fifty-five thousand, five hundred fifty-five point five," Eddie says as he climbs into the jeep.

"Hm?" Buck backs out of the dark road they parked on, hand rested on the familiar spot behind the neck of the passenger seat. Eddie leans into it out of habit.

"The treasure. Five million divided by nine; it's five hundred fifty-five thousand, five hundred fifty-five point five."

Buck whistles lowly. "Well, it's not a million something-something, but it's better than nothing." He pulls the jeep into line behind Athena's car, waving at Hen and Chimney in his rearview.

"Mm. If we find it," Eddie sighs.

"We'll find it," Buck grins, confident, bordering cocky. "With the 118 on the job? Better watch out, Hollis Harcourt."

Eddie laughs. He rolls the window down, letting the cool night air rush into the car. Things have been heavy, lately - good, but heavy: getting Chris on board with Ana, Chris chartering an Uber and running off, but at least it was to Buck. This feels like home, wind against his cheeks and Buck next to him, sandwiched in the middle of the rest of the 118. Whatever else they find tonight, God, he's grateful to have this.

They drive in silence for a while, until Eddie starts fiddling with the bluetooth and Buck busts into laughter when he plays the Mission: Impossible theme. It's so stupid. Eddie's cheeks kind of ache from smiling.

"How'd you know that?" Buck asks, once he's calmed down.

"Know what?"

"That math thing."

"I know math," Eddie defends.

"Yeah, but five million divided by nine?"

"Mm. There's, like, a rule," Eddie muses. "Something like, if the number is divisible by 10, then dividing it by 9 is the first digit of that number a bunch of times, with one less place value."

Buck furrows his brows, like he’s trying to do it in his head.

"300 divided by 9 is 33.3. 400 divided by 4 is 44.4," Eddie shrugs. "I don't know, it was in Chris's math homework."

What Eddie doesn't bring up is that it was Ana who taught him that. That he'd kissed her on her couch, in between fourth grade math problems and bites of the dinner she'd made, and it had felt...nice, he guesses. Good. It's been a while since he's kissed anyone, and Shannon was only his second or third kiss, and Ana tasted so different but felt just the same. Cherry lips instead of strawberry, but still soft and warm. He still resisted the teenage urge to wipe his mouth on his hand afterwards.

But he doesn't mention it, because Buck would ask, and then his stupid lie about construction on Sunset would fall apart and Buck would know he's kissed someone and God, wouldn't that be weird? And anyway, that's not who he wants to be right now.

Not Eddie, maybe betraying Shannon's memory and maybe hurting his son and maybe not being the greatest boyfriend, after all this time. Just Eddie, next to Buck on the freeway, windows down to let the night in. Just Eddie with a lot to smile about.

"Almost there," Buck says finally, pulling Eddie out of his thoughts. "I think we beat the others by a bit. See, aren't you glad I drove?"

"I'm always glad when you drive," Eddie grins. "Saves me so much gas."

Buck reaches over the dash and flicks his temple. "Just for that, I'm taking half your cut."

"You wouldn't," Eddie gasps, mocking.

"Oh, yeah, freeloader," Buck teases. "And I'll use it to bribe Chris into teaching me your secret, mathematical ways."

"They're really not a secret. I could teach you, if you really wanted."

"Ah, but if my calculations are correct, your numbers are wrong," Buck says, swinging the Jeep through a sharp left into Harcourt's quiet neighborhood. He taps his nose knowingly, looks at Eddie, and smirks. "Five and above, you gotta round up. It should be point six."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Semantics."

"Details! They're important," Buck insists as they pull into the driveway. "Math teachers can't tell you everything, you know. You'll still need me around."

Buck doesn’t know about that night, but he knows about Ana. Of course he does.

"I'll always need you around," Eddie tells him, probably a little more honestly than warranted. But then Buck is smiling over the parking brake, and that makes it worth it. Eddie holds eye contact until Hen's headlights appear in the rearview, and then he hops out.

"I mean," he says, grinning over the hood. "Who else is gonna drive me to the treasure?"

Then Eddie's own laughter is drowning out Buck's groan, and he grabs his best friend’s hand and pulls him to Hollis Harcourt's gate.